Can a dead heart feel?
by Sanshal
Summary: Sam knew he was taking a huge risk- agreeing to this spell meant he would either risk losing everything or he would- for once- be able to save Dean. And given Dean was sporting black eyes-literally- these days; there was a good chance things wouldn't go according to plan. But then again, Sam wasn't a Winchester for nothing.


_**Title: Can a dead heart feel?**_

_**Warning: Demon!Dean**__( But don't worry; he'll have (at least a few) redeeming characteristics and I don't think I could write him as __evil__ evil you know?_

_**A/N**__\- __S-10 speculation__. I'm NOT putting this in warnings because I'm fairly cent percent sure that show will not proceed like my fic._

_**Summary**__\- Sam knew he was taking a huge risk- agreeing to this spell meant he would either risk losing everything or he would- for once- be able to save Dean. And given Dean was sporting black eyes-literally- these days; there was a good chance things wouldn't go according to plan._

_But then again, Sam wasn't a Winchester for nothing._

_Being a demon was boring, Dean_ decided.

Sure, there was the blood and pain and killing bit; he'd enjoyed eliminating certain things single-handedly that he'd never thought he'd be able to handle without serious back-up while still alive; but it got old soon.

_You could always see how Sam was...? _The mark whispered in his mind.

He ruthlessly shut out the thought. Sure, being around Sam seemed to lessen the hold Cain's mark had over him; his brother's mere presence silencing its constant demand for blood. But Dean couldn't afford to let himself become that dependent on Sam. For once life had deemed it okay to grant his brother a reprieve; he wasn't going to do anything to change that- Sam knew he was a demon. And that he was okay. That had to be enough.

_It just had to._

He was just debating where to channel his bloodlust when he felt the slight tug calling him through space and time.

Dean paused.

He knew it was to be expected- _had expected his brother to call him sooner, in fact; _but sending out his senses to trace the faint signature on the summons had him pulling short. _This wasn't Sam..._

He couldn't imagine who would want to summon a knight of Hell- it wasn't an expert summoning that would force him to obey, but curiosity had him answering the call nevertheless. Closing his eyes he let the spell carry him to the caller.

When he opened his eyes, he wasn't surprised to find himself in a dusty old warehouse, but the absence of a devil's trap to hold him came as something of a novelty.

"Huh," He said, taking in the large crate on the far side of the room and the scrawny pimpled teen with the ritual ingredients still spread in front of him.

"Where did you come from?" The boy yelped, jumping back on knobby knees.

Dean raised an eyebrow, allowing the kid to take in his black eyes and smirking at the obvious fear in the young face.

The boy swallowed, visibly bringing himself under control once he realized Dean was simply standing (_so far, at least) _and questioned, "Uh... are- Are you Mr. Winchester?"

Dean felt his curiosity grow even as a thin tendril of anger began to form- obviously this was some sort of trap. Nevertheless he jerked his head in acknowledgement.

"I-uh... I have a delivery for you," The boy stuttered out, holding out a pen and sheaf of paper for him to sign.

Dean couldn't help but laugh, his blade manifesting in his hand without conscious thought: "Really? You think I'm _that _stupid?"

The boy's eyes widened at the bone-knife in his hand and he instinctively stepped back, "Sir, please... I'm just the delivery boy!"

"Yeah, last I checked," Dean snorted, peering at the logo on the boy's uniform, "BlueDart didn't do personalized deliveries to hell."

He could see the boy begin to panic but he had to commend the kid for not breaking character when he kept mumbling that he was a simple delivery boy, taking a matching step back for each step forward that Dean took. Getting tired of the game Dean simply materialized behind the teen, the blade held at the ready at his jugular and his blood chanting for him to make the kill.

"Wait!" The boy screamed out, dropping the paper and pen to dig in his pocket for something even as a sour smell suddenly permeated the air around them.

Still unsure why he was listening to the request of a snivelling teen that had obviously been sent to destroy him, Dean took a step back and wrinkled his nose at the wet patch on the boy's jeans.

"Dude!" he muttered, "Hunting is so not the career for you!"

"Don't kill me, please- don't kill me!" he boy begged pushing something out towards him.

Dean drew back violently at the unexpected gesture but when nothing happened he focussed on the fisted hand held out to him.

"I was told to give you this if you got angry! They said this would keep me safe!"

"They?" Dean asked as he debated whether he should risk satisfying his curiosity to see what was being given to him.

"He!" The boy corrected immediately, "Tall- _and I mean really tall-_ dude with long hair?"

Dean paused. _Sammy?_

"What's in your hand?" He demanded, ready to spring back if it was any sort of hex.

But what was held out had his knees nearly bucking as a long lost bronze figurehead that he'd once held dear was held out to him. Throwing caution to the winds he snatched the amulet out of the boy's hand, feeling the faint scent of Sam still clinging to the little charm beneath the boy's –_disgustingly_\- sweaty musk.

"Does –does this mean you'll accept the de-del- delivery?" The boy asked after a moment.

Dean jerked; he'd momentarily forgotten the boy's existence as he tried to remember if he'd noticed Sam rescue the amulet from the bin all those years ago. "Yes."

He let the boy go- something that would have the demons back home questioning his sanity no doubt- but he was simply too curious to waste even the minute it would take to kill the delivery-boy.

He hoped curiosity didn't kill the cat. ... _And damn, Sammy had him comparing himself to a cat now!_ He really hoped whatever the box held would be worth this embarrassment even if there was nobody around to witness it.

Dean neared the box with trepidation; while he didn't exactly think his brother _wanted_ to kill him outright, he wasn't sure _what_ he would send Dean either. He paused when he noticed the breathing holes cut into the lid of the crate. ..._A pet?_

Wasn't likely... But Hell help him if he knew what else it could be.

With barely any effort he managed to pry the thick lid off, taking care not to let it fall inward in case it did turn out to be a pet.

When he finally peered in, he was glad he had taken the precaution; even though the unexpected _delivery_ caused his long dead heart to stutter once.

_What the Hell was Sam thinking?!_

Wide hazel eyes blinked up at him briefly and just when Dean was sure they were getting ready to burst into tears; the tiny- _perfect-_ pink lips opened to reveal tiny pearly whites as a voice – _way higher than he'd remembered- _ called out cheerfully, "Dee!"

Dean swallowed- even if he could barely remember a time when Sam had been less than two feet tall, he could clearly remember that call. Still unsure how the child wasn't freaking out over his demon-black eyes, he called out a hesitant, "Sammy?"

"Dee!" Was the happy response to his question and the demon had to pause to catch his breath.

_What the Hell was Sam thinking? _He found himself asking again. But then again, it was possible that Sam had gotten afoul of some witch-_Damn, he hated witches!-_ and had been forced to resort to seeking Dean out. Which brought him to another question- _Was this pint sized version of his little brother in possession of his memories?_

Had to be; he guessed, because otherwise this version of Sam wouldn't recognize Dean as he was now..._Right?_

"Dee!" His name was repeated for a third time- this time the tone more petulant than happy and accompanied by the definite sound of a stomping foot.

Dean shook his head, remembering that Sam never liked being ignored by his brother and headed back to the crate. Reaching in awkwardly to pull the child out and grateful that irrespective of what had been done to him by whatever spell, Sam seemed to trust him enough to allow him to lift him out.

He couldn't help the snigger at the concept though; his brother- _when normal sized, at least-_ could have used it as a foot-stool but this teeny-tiny version wasn't even high enough to reach the edge of the wooden box. The thought made him glance down in surprise.

Sammy- _and he couldn't think of this two-foot nothing version of his baby bro as 'Sam'-_ seemed content to stay curled up in his arms. Grateful that the mark had fallen absolutely silent for once, he brushed a hand through the silken brown strands, unable to resist blowing a raspberry on the rosy cheek at the soft giggle the action elicited.

"What happened to you, huh; Sammy?"

The child- _and he was loath to think of the boy as anything but till he had undeniable proof-_ simply smiled beatifically at him and pressed a tiny warm palm against his cheek. "Hung-gy"

Dean shook his head, unable to keep the smile hidden any longer as he remembered how Sam had mangled his 'R's and 'N's till he was six. ..._huh; that meant this version was younger than that._

His grip tightened instinctively on the small body when he thought of all the memories of _his_ Sam in this tiny version as well. He cast a quick glance at the child in his arms and not noticing the boy having any obvious mental issues relaxed slightly. _Thank God for small mercies._

Insistent tapping on his cheek by small palms brought him out of his musing.

"_Hung-gy_." The boy demanded; the accompanying pout and puppy-eyes already perfected.

"Yeah, okay; let's get you something to eat..." he debated suitable options before offering, "happy meal?"

Hazel eyes widened as the child emphatically shook his head, "Ice- kim!"

Dean grinned, "Ice-cream it is."

_Figuring out what had been done to his brother could wait._

Appearing in a corner of a children's park, Dean was startled by the giggle from the child in his arms; little Sammy patting his cheek eagerly as he gleefully ordered, "A-gen!"

It took him a moment to realize that he'd become so familiar with simply travelling through the barriers of time and space in the five months after becoming a demon that he'd done that instead of doing the responsible thing and bringing them to the park manually.

"A-gen!" The boy repeated and Dean shook his head in defeat. _Trust Sammy to enjoy supernatural methods of travelling._

"Thought you wanted ice-cream, kiddo?" Dean asked in an effort to distract.

The boy nodded vehemently, gleefully calling out '_Ice-kim' _as he wiggled to be let down. Dean lowered him carefully to the ground, but before he could warn the kid to not leave his side, he was scampering off towards the brightly painted ice-cream truck parked across the playground. Sighing and rolling his eyes at himself Dean followed; lengthening his strides to catch up with his pint-sized little brother. The child reached the truck before him and impatiently waited for Dean to reach him and lift him up so that he could see his choices. Dean deliberately slowed down to annoy this two-feet nothing avatar of Sam -just to see if this child could shoot a bitch-face as potent as his adult version (_he couldn't; but his 'sad' puppy-eyes was just as lethal)_.

He tossed the boy up into the air, using his powers to make Sammy go higher than he should and let gravity do its job before catching him; glad to hear the happy laughter and the uncomplicated faith the kid seemed to have that Dean wouldn't let him fall. "So; what do you want, huh, Sammy?"

"Stow-be-wie," The boy answered seriously -_enunciating the word as clearly as he was able_; before checking to see if his choice was approved. Dean managed to keep his expression bland as he nodded seriously and confirmed the order, "One strawberry cone, please."

The boy at the counter glanced up at his voice and flinched, "Dude... Your eyes!"

Dean ducked his head, flushing as he remembered that he'd been so distracted by Sammy and his easy acceptance of Dean's coal-black eyes that he'd forgotten to cover before making eye contact with a civilian.

"Contacts," He growled out, anger at his mistake making his voice darker than he wanted it to be- especially with Sammy within ear-shot.

"Cool!" The teenager grinned, apparently mollified as he handed the cone to Sammy.

The little boy promptly licked one side and swung it around to offer a taste to Dean; the rapid movement making the ice-cream fly off the cone and land on the dusty ground with a loud '_splat'._

Big hazel eyes immediately began to tear up, the tiny little pink lip already beginning to wobble as Sammy prepared to burst into tears at the loss of his treat.

"I'll get you another," Dean interrupted, watching as the hazel eyes looked up at him, pausing to consider the offer. He gave a small nod, eye-lashes already in light clumps from the tears that had managed to leak out.

Dean wiped them off with a careful thumb and turned back to the teenager at the counter, "Another?"

The boy hesitated briefly, "Maybe you should get him a cup this time?"

Dean considered for a moment before giving his okay, his young charge accepting the cup with a shy 'thank-you' and clinging to Dean.

Dean walked them over to the few seats scattered around the truck and settled Sammy in one before perching awkwardly on the edge of another- _why did the seats have to be so damn tiny?_

Sammy, always one for sharing, offered him a bite; refusing to take his 'no, thanks' for an answer and leaning forward with the messily scooped up ice-cream till he was in danger of toppling off the seat. Grudgingly giving in, Dean leaned forward and accepted the ice-cream, hiding his shudder at the sickly sweet taste.

He watched the child feed himself absently as he wondered what to do next. Going back to Hell was out of the question for obvious reasons and he didn't want to think what would happen if Crowley summoned him right this instant. The Bunker would have been the best option to get some answers if he hadn't been a demon. Still; he could try once for Sam's sake. Worst case scenario? He made Sam release him from the devil's traps lining the place.

The boy was done eating by the time he made his decision but as he stood up to whisk them to the Bunker, the boy pointed to the swings, "Dee, swings!"

Dean glanced heavenward for help. _And why was everything a cause for exclamation with little Sammy?_

"Please?" The boy asked, bringing out the puppy eyes and Dean knew he was lost.

_Guess answers could wait another few minutes..._

He settled the boy into the swings and with firm instructions not to let go of the chains, he began pushing; the child's high-pitched squeals of delight reminding him of how he'd been enjoying screams of an entirely different sort just a few hours earlier.

He shook his head to clear out _those_ thoughts- he wasn't relaxing the tight leash he had on his demon self with Sam this vulnerable and close to him.

With his heart long silent and no muscle to fatigue; Dean lost track of how long he pushed Sam on the swing; only a fraction of his attention remained focussed on the child squealing in delight every time the swing went up. He was jolted out of cataloguing the things that could have changed Sam into Sammy when an unknown presence entered the five-foot invisible radius he'd set up around them. Eyes flashing black, he glanced behind him to check on the unknown entity; the blade automatically beginning to manifest in his hand. He paused, the blade disappearing again when he saw it was just a young suburban mom.

He paused.

"Hi... umm, I was wondering if you could let my son have a turn at the swings now?" The woman ventured hesitantly.

Dean glanced behind her to find a small boy- not much older than Sam's current physical age – clinging to her pant leg.

"Sure," He answered curtly, stopping the swing and unbuckling his brother who promptly hopped off.

"_Sam_." He warned, making the boy halt in his tracks and wait for him. He held out his hand and was gratified when the child accepted it without protest; obediently following him when he headed towards the shadows at the edge of the park.

"Thank-you!" A voice called behind him and Dean managed to grunt an acknowledgement to the woman behind and continued walking.

He waited till they were sufficiently hidden by the shadows of the small grove of trees before lifting Sammy into his arms again, ignoring the boy's squirming.

"We need to get you home, kiddo," He murmured; his need to return Sam to his normal size and worry that time was running out overriding everything else although he didn't doubt that he would succumb to the little boy's puppy-eyes if the boy chose to use them.

Fortunately Sam had never been difficult as a child and settled as he nodded morosely; trustingly leaning forward to tuck his head into the crook of Dean's neck the way he used to as a child and the demon felt a wistful longing tug at his heartstrings- _would it really be so bad to leave the boy as he was now?_

_**Yes;**_ the practical part of him answered- _** and not least because he was a demon now. Did he really want to risk injuring Sammy?**_

Dean sighed and closed his eyes; opening them as he felt the familiar chilly draught of the Bunker's interiors. He bit his lip as he felt the wind pick up slightly; the numerous wards coming to life as they detected the presence of a demon and braced for the pain to follow. He was all too aware of the defenceless body in his arms and felt a seconds worry about his little brother's safety; but almost as soon as it had risen, the wind died.

Dean frowned. _Why were the wards not acting?_

A soft breath puffed against his neck and he glanced down to find Sam nearly asleep- the child obviously worn out by the day's events and found himself wondering if the wards were not acting because of the child in his arms.

Hesitating briefly, he set the boy down; smiling when Sam simply leaned against his leg instead of moving away.

"Sammy?"

"Hmmm?" The boy murmured, the time between blinks significantly longer than when he'd been on the swing.

"I need you to go and sit on that chair for me, kiddo," Dean coaxed; pointing towards the armchair by the fireplace which he knew was well beyond the devil's trap he was standing over.

The boy glanced at the chair before nodding and moving towards it. Dean watched him step away and braced for the wards to act now that he'd lost his shield.

But nothing happened.

He relaxed some of the leash he had on his demonic powers; watched Sammy blinking at the flickering of the lamps and waited, but nothing happened beyond another muted gust. Frowning; Dean cautiously stepped forward, moving till he was certain that he was at the very edge of the trap before taking in a deep fortifying –_and unnecessary- _breath and stepped through.

It felt like walking through a wall of icy water, but it didn't actually hurt.

Sammy swinging his legs where he sat made him glance at the child; but it was just the boy getting impatient. Returning his focus back to where the trap should've been he carefully peeled back the carpet to check on the trap and scowled to see it intact.

_Why wasn't it working, then?_

Crouching down and brushing a tentative finger across the black mark was what finally gave him the answer: minute changes had been made in the trap and he could sense blood mixed into the paint wherever the changes had been made. But what surprised him was that the blood felt surprisingly similar... _in fact, it was similar enough to be his own_.

Disbelief had him glancing at his brother; Sam had used his own blood for this? _Crowley on a stick!_

He didn't exactly recognize the new etchings; but guessed that they somehow let the wards identify and exempt him. Question was; _why had Sam been expecting him to come to the Bunker?_

"Dee?"

The plaintive call had been drawing back from his musings and refocusing on the exhausted child. "Yeah; I'm done, kiddo."

With a careless wave, he set the carpet back in position and went to offer a hand to his diminutive little brother; unable to hide his grin when the boy ignored him in favour of lifting his arms in the universal gesture for '_pick –me –up'._

He picked the kid up effortlessly, stroking a hand through the soft chocolate curls when the boy leaned tiredly against him, "Let's get you cleaned up and into bed; huh, Sammy?"

The boy barely nodded; eyes staying closed longer than open now as he blinked.

"Or maybe straight into bed, huh? We'll clean you up in the morning."

"Mmm..."

Dean smiled, tucking the child in and sat vigil by the bedside; his mind running a mile a minute as it wondered how best to figure just what had happened and exactly how much Sammy shared memories with Sam.

By the time Sammy woke up, Dean had ascertained that the crate that had held Sammy or even the warehouse had no hidden clues to tell him how (and why) Sam had devolved into Sammy. (_And yes; he had sneaked off to make the confirmations while the kid slept_.) He was debating if the scrawny pimply teen from BlueDart who'd made the delivery had any more information and whether he should pay him a visit when the little tyke woke up nauseatingly cheerful.

"Dee!"

Dean grimaced at the volume- _yep, Sammy's batteries were fully charged._

"Morning, Kiddo," He grumbled, scrubbing a hand over his face and feeling the scratch of his five-o'clock shadow.

The kid jumped up on the bed, giggling at the way the mattress bounced and uncaring for the fact that Dean's shirt was nearly slipping off his narrow shoulders by his enthusiastic leaping.

The older Winchester hid his wince at the abuse of his much-cherished memory foam but couldn't find it in himself to protest. With a fluid motion he plucked the child off the bed; tucking him under his arm like a rolled up carpet and shook his head fondly at the fresh laughter the action elicited.

"Gotta clean you up, Stinky,"

If anything the four-year old laughed harder at that, "I'm not Stinky!"

"You are," Dean couldn't help retorting in childish sense-memory.

"Am not!"

"You are!"

"No!"

"Yep!"

There was a loud splash and Sammy was unceremoniously dumped into the bathtub.

For a moment there was blessed peace and Dean briefly wondered if he'd actually hurt the kid but then the little boy splashed him, giggling hysterically and Dean found himself relaxing. Eventually Sammy got bored of splashing him when he failed to react after three attempts and settled in; sitting down in the water Indian-style and moving his arm gently through the water in vague floating motions. "Bubbles?"

Dean groaned. _He should have remembered that Sammy's baths were never complete without bubbles._

Nodding before the boy could pull out his lethal puppy-eyes, he glanced once at the shelf to confirm that yes; both Winchester boys had out-grown the need for bubble-baths once they hit thirty and berated himself silently.

"Step outta the water for a minute, Kiddo,"

"Why?"

_Ah yes, Sammy __other__ favourite thing: asking questions._

Valiantly restraining the urge to simply tell the kid 'because- I- said- so'; he helped the boy out of the water, and chose the higher road: "The water's gotten all dirty; so I was thinking we could change it out before adding the bubbles. What'dya think?"

"Oh." Little Sammy nodded sagely, apparently unperturbed at standing in Adam's vesture before his big brother- _it had been awhile before Sammy got shy with him, Dean remembered- _and pushed the longer strands off his face. "Good idea," The boy told him smartly.

Dean nodded. "So, why don't you stand here and watch the water go down while get the bubbles, okay?"

Sammy agreed without protest, "Don't take too long."

Dean grinned, ruffling the wet strands and used his powers for the worryingly un-demon-like task of fetching bubbles from the nearest store (even though he didn't pay for it); the water was still only half-way gone when he was back and Dean took the opportunity to help brush the kid's teeth (he manfully ignored the petulant demands of '_I can do it myselp!')- _Sammy wasn't getting cavities on his watch.

Once the tub was refilled; Dean added in the bubbles, shaking them in and grinning at Sammy's excited exclamations. Once in Sam wanted 'horns' and Dean could do little but indulge him.

The play time ended abruptly when Dean felt the humid heat of the bathroom shift slightly and he didn't even have to turn around before Sammy was screaming.

The boy fell silent as Dean gingerly pulled the kid into him, but he could still feel the silent tremors coursing through the tiny body. It was only once he was done that Dean turned around to glare at the intruder- a feeling of pride welling in him towards the kid when he realized Crowley's face was twisted in a grimace of pain. _It was good to know that only he was exempt from the wards- not that they would have stopped him; Dean would have kept Sammy safe irrespective._

"Crowley," He acknowledged.

The King of Hell coughed before meeting his gaze with a glare, "I had been wondering what was keeping our darling knight away. .. Stupid of me, huh? I should have guessed."

Dean shrugged, unable to keep from shifting slightly to shield Sammy's tiny frame with his bulk even knowing that the action was useless. He could feel the child's shuddering breaths behind him, but refused to look away from the threat.

The demon took a step forward and the blade materialized in Dean's hands.

"Really?" Crowley exclaimed, more amusement than fear layering his tone. "Have you forgotten to whom you owe your fealty, Squirrel?"

"I owe my loyalty to Sammy first, Crowley," He growled in answer, "You threaten him and see how much good my supposed _fealty_ to you does,"

"Not threatening the Moose," Crowley returned, holding his hands up as though to show that he had no weapons. Dean was not fooled.

"You really are a suspicious bastard, aren't you?" The demon king muttered companionably, moving forward despite Dean's threat till he could peer at the child clinging to his knight's back.

"My my my..." He whistled, "Hard to imagine Moose was ever so tiny,"

Dean growled low in his throat, tightening his hold around the trembling child who he'd managed to clumsily wrap in a towel while shielding him from Crowley. Knowing the demon was not afraid of him and wouldn't leave till his curiosity was satisfied, he took the opportunity to turn and right the fluffy terry so that as much of his brother as possible was covered.

The boy -_who'd thankfully stopped crying_\- curled into him with a soft whimper still staring worriedly at Crowley.

"Sshhh, you're safe, Sammy." Dean hushed and picked him up; he had to let go of the blade for it, but having Sammy safe in his arms seemed to be more important than wielding a hunk of bone.

_Huh; it had been awhile since he'd managed to disregard the Blade's siren call so completely..._

"So... what happened?" Crowley's voice brought Dean back from his musing and he instinctively cupped a hand behind the boy's head to shield him from the demon's view.

"Still working on that," He confessed grudgingly.

"Why don't I help you with that, eh?" Crowley offered, reaching out for the child before Dean's low growl and the First blade pressed against his jugular had him freezing.

"Try to touch him again and I won't stop before I saw right through,"

The demon king nodded, grimacing once the older Winchester brother released his neck and working his jaw to check that everything was still functioning. Dean glared at Crowley, thanking the powers-that-be that for whatever reason Sam didn't appear to be frightened of his big brother's murderous fury.

"Think I should take my leave now, my lovelies. See you soon, Dean. Moose." And with a nod, the demon was gone.

Dean turned to glance back at his baby brother and found the kid scrunching his nose in confusion. _ It was hard not to find the expression incredibly cute. _"What?"

"He stinks!" Sam grumbled, rubbing over his little button nose as though he could wipe the scent of sulphur off. Dean hid his smile as he realised that even this pint sized version of his brother was observant enough to be able to identify the smell of sulphur even if he didn't recognize it.

"Do I stink as well?" He asked, more out of curiosity than any actual desire to know the answer.

Sammy shook his head immediately, "You smell like home."

_And no siree- those weren't tears... just soap suds that had gotten into his eyes._

Dean nodded as helped the boy into one of his own tees- having not gotten around to buying proper clothes for the kid apart from the one he already came in. _Huh._

Now that he thought of it, he recognized those jeans and that flannel. .. Apparently whatever had shrunk Sam had also worked on his clothes.

Dean wished someone had warned him beforehand not to feed a kid candy for breakfast because demon or not, the boy's non-stop chatter was giving him the beginnings of a migraine... _Maybe this was just some kind of special punishment reserved for demons topside._

He desperately wants to slap a hand over the child's mouth to keep him silent for a single minute's respite but his hands remain gentle as pulls the boy in close; not wanting to risk finding out just how strong he's become since his death.

He had initially taken the child to a playground after "providing" him with clothes liberated from a nearby super-store; but had picked up on two demons tailing them- obviously they had been tasked with just keeping an eye on Dean and Sam because they didn't try to approach the child_. _Nevertheless, their proximity to Sammy had Dean jittery and when one of the demons ended up with the ball Sammy had been playing with- swallowing nervously as he glanced at Dean before offering the toy back to the de-aged hunter; Dean decided that enough was enough and transported them back to the bunker.

He had not realized how non-'child friendly' the bunker was till Sam had run full tilt and avoided careening down the stairs only thanks to Dean's demonic powers- not that it had fazed the little pint hunter who continued to 'race' through the long corridors of bunker. Dean quickly realized that he needed to keep an eye on the younger Winchester to ensure he did not end up injuring himself.

By the time the little boy was exhausted enough to collapse willingly in his big brother's waiting arms, Dean had begun to question how he'd ever kept up with the kid during his original childhood. Irrespective, he was glad when Sam finally crawled up into his lap and promptly fell asleep. Tucking the boy in, Dean sat for a moment next to him, slowly stroking the long brown strands and contemplating the severe breach of trust he was about to commit.

Sighing in resignation he closed his eyes as he let his 'essence' diffuse enough to slip into Sam.

He had been expecting his brother to put up a fight: for someone who'd wrestled Lucifer himself, Dean would've been easy picking; but to his surprise Sam seemed to recognize him.

Dean blinked, realizing he was still in Sam's head and that Sam was _still _Sammy. The boy was playing with army-men toys that Dean remembered from their own childhood in what appeared to be the Impala's backseat. When Dean materialized next to him, the child simply snuggled closer and passed off a handful of the army-men to him before continuing with his game.

He gave back the toys and peered out of the windows into the fog surrounding them; there seemed to be shapes out there, vague and blurry through the thick mist. He reached out to push the door open and Sammy was suddenly focussed on him.

"No!"

Dean raised his eyebrow, "Just going to check out the outside, kiddo."

"No, We're s'posed to stay 'ere!"

Before Dean could ask why, he felt a presence near them out in the real world and was waking up with the First Blade already in his hand and pressed up against someone's throat.

"_Cas?"_

Dean stared at the blue-eyed angel; blinking when his vision swam to show him a face wreathed in nearly blinding white-light with six wings stretching behind him to brush the bunker's vaulted ceiling overlaid on Jimmy Novak's familiar face.

"Dean," The angel answered, as placid as ever.

Dean winced at the way the word echoed inside him, the vibrations caused making his teeth grind together. He stepped back, withdrawing the blade from where he'd held it against Jimmy Novak's vulnerable neck and removed his other hand from his shoulder; realizing only then that his left palm was red like he'd grabbed heated metal.

The angel followed his gaze, "I apologise, it was not my intent to injure you,"

Dean waved him off, watching as his skin healed, "What're you doing here?"

The angel shrugged, "I felt Sam's fear,"

He couldn't quite help the glance behind him where his little brother (now literally, once again) lay snuffling softly in sleep.

"He's afraid of me?" Dean asked softly, feeling something akin to regret bloom in his chest.

"No; something frightened him this... _morning_?"

Dean turned back to the angel to glare at him, "And you're coming to check on him _now?!"_

"He already felt protected,"

"Cas," Dean growled, "I love you, man; but you gotta stop speaking in riddles!"

"I apologise," The angel replied.

Dean glanced away; the duality of Castiel's image hurt his head if he stared too long.

"I simply meant that even when he was scared, he was aware that he was not in any real danger; Dean,"

He nodded, "So... uh.. I don't- don't frighten him; do I?"

"No,"

"How does he recognise me?" Dean asked after a minute, "He doesn't seem to recall anything else,"

"He will always recognise you, Dean, the same way you always know him,"

Dean swallowed at the confirmation, "There is no cure for this curse, is there?"

Cas tilted his head in an action that was so familiar that it made Dean smile, "Are you sure that this is a curse, Dean?"

"What else could it be?!"

Castiel simply blinked back at him.

"Sammy always wanted normal..." He spoke up after another minute.

The angel's head tilted again like a confused puppy, "I do not understand what that has anything to with this situation,"

Dean hardened his heart and set his jaw before he spoke again, "He remembers nothing now. Not our messed up childhood, nor his tortured life. He is, for all intents and purposes, a _real_ child."

The angel gazed down at the child-in-repose with a soft smile on his face, "You intend to take him away from this life?"

"It's what's best for him," Dean shrugged.

The soul in front of him crumpled in a heap as he withdrew his blade; his entire hand, elbow downwards, dripping in the poor SOB's blood. Dean glanced at his bloody hands and back at the gurgling pile of flesh impassively; this one would need a few hours to repair itself before he could have another session. Stalking to the closed door, he slammed it open, grinning when the two medium-level demons acting as wardens flinched. "Next!"

His roar echoed through Hell and Dean smiled in satisfaction at the way it fell silent for a moment in response before the wailing began anew. The wardens dragged in another snivelling, pathetic creature and Dean headed to the table on the side to wipe the Blade clean: _You always take care of your weapons, Boy!_ Dean shook his head as he remembered John Winchester's oft-repeated phrase and wondered how the great hunter would feel if he saw how useful those words were even now.

He wondered if his Dad would have still worried about Sammy- _good, innocent, PURE Sammy _if he knew what Dean would become and gnashed his teeth as his brain latched on to 'Sammy' again. In frustration, he simply slashed the blade in one long arc; chest heaving as the strung up soul split into two clean halves; already dead.

"Damn it!"

He slammed the door back open, growling out a 'Next!' before stalking back in.

"Not that I don't appreciate your fervour, Squirrel," Crowley began.

Dean didn't exactly jump at the sudden arrival, but it was close.

"But you're working your way through my stock faster than it can be replenished."

"Souls don't leave once I'm done with them." Dean growled.

"No, but they need to repair themselves before you can play with them, ay?"

"What d'you want, Crowley?"

"Your phone's been ringing off the hook. Just thought you might be interested," The demon King answered, tossing the black plastic object in question at him before fluttering off.

Focus suddenly shifted, Dean grabbed at the phone, preparing to head up to receive a proper connection. _Hell could really do with mobile network._

"Sir, you asked for another one," One of the duo posted outside his door spoke up, hauling a bedraggled looking male.

Dean shook his head, "Maybe some other time,"

The phone came to life as soon as he appeared on Earth, the little black box chirping and beeping happily as it announced the number of missed calls and messages it had received. Dean dialled back promptly.

"Hello?"

"Mister Winchester?" A woman's hysterical voice came through the speaker, "Oh thank goodness you called! We've been trying to reach you for-"

"What's wrong with Sam?" He cut in mid tirade.

"He didn't stop crying since you drove off two days ago- he hasn't eaten, barely sleeps and keeps asking for you-"

Dean closed his eyes- he'd known the split would be difficult on him but he'd never expected Sammy to take it so hard- _weren't kids supposed to have short memory spans?_

"Where are you?" He interrupted again.

No sooner was the answer out of her mouth than Dean was appearing outside the little suburban house. He took in the well maintained yard and the little slide that had been set up in one corner in anticipation of Sam's arrival and shook his head: Sammy could have had it good with this couple who so obviously adored him. Jogging up the steps he rapped sharply on the door, smiling when the woman stared at him in shock. "How'd you get here so fast?"

"I have my ways," Dean answered, eyes flashing black as he strode past her to where he could hear his brother's exhausted sobs. (_And maybe it was a sign of how harried she was that she didn't even flinch...)_

Sam was curled on the bed, facing away from them when Dean entered; his prospective new 'dad' on the floor next to about two dozen toys as he tried to mollify the heart-broken little boy.

"Sammy?" Dean called softly, his voice gravel rough at the realization of how obviously his little brother was missing him.

_And Sammy, who had resolutely refused to turn around to face his new parents, was flinging off the comforter he had crawled under to throw himself into the demon's arms._

"Where'd you go?" He mumbled between sniffles as he clung to his big brother with all the might in his tiny body.

"Thought you'd be happier here, Kiddo," Dean answered, feeling the raw agony in his own chest lessen as he held the little body.

"Wantchu!" The boy whispered, burrowing as close as he could.

"I-...uh... I know it's not my place," The woman spoke up, "But he obviously needs you, Mr. Winchester."

Dean nodded, feeling a lump in his throat as he took in the tear-streaked faces of the couple who'd wanted so badly to be the home Sam loved and grew up in; "Thank you... and I'm sorry,"

"Guess it's just us again, Kiddo," Dean announced as they appeared in the bunker.

Sammy's only response was to smile sleepily and snuggle closer. Dean tucked him in- _it was too late to demand the kid take a bath or clean his teeth_\- and curled around the small cocoon, relaxing as he let himself empty his mind of everything but the steady sound of Sam's breathing. He hadn't known demons could fall asleep but when he awoke, it was next to a full grown Sam.

"Woah!"

Sam's eyes flew open at his voice, hands reaching for a weapon not present before he realized it was only Dean.

"What the hell?!"

"It was a spell," The younger Winchester admitted- _of course the little shit knew what he was talking about_, hands out like he intended to halt Dean.

"I gathered that, Captain Obvious!" Dean snapped back.

"I could turn you back human if you gave up the blade to stay with me..." He continued. "I had to take the chance, Dean!"

Dean closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to harness his demonic power to test the veracity of that statement; opening them again when he found that the spell had indeed worked. "What-"he licked his lips hesitantly, unsure if he actually wanted an answer, "What would've happened if I hadn't?"

Sam shrugged, eyes flicking away as he answered, "I would've stayed a kid."

"For how long?" _These kinds of spell came with specific time-limits..._

"What day is it today?"

"Twenty- seventh. Why?"

"Three more days then," His voice when Sam answered, was soft.

"And then you'd have died. Is that what you're trying to hide from me?"

The blush answered Dean well enough. "Damn it, Sammy! You bet your life on the off chance that demon-me would stick by you?"

Sam shrugged; eyes defiant.

"What the hell were you even thinking, huh? Trusting a demon with a little kid?!"

"I didn't,"

"What d'ya mean you didn't?!"

"I didn't leave a little kid with a demon, Dean."

"You didn't?" Dean gasped in disbelief.

"I didn't leave a little kid with a demon, Dean." Sam repeated, looking right in his eyes as he answered, "_I left him with his big brother._"

_ж‡ж_

The End.


End file.
